


In the Shadow of the Phoenix

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "Rising of Lazarus."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #14 under the pen name Angelica Cooper-Smith.

_"If I have to take a squad into Area 51 and kick some Air Force butt, I will…"_

 

          Once they managed to evacuate the USAF Geological Site at Spirit Lake, Wisconsin, Ironhorse put Harrison and Suzanne on a secured plane for California and took one himself to Washington DC.  He arrived too late to see General Wilson, so he took a room at a hotel close to the Pentagon, ordered room service, and tried to sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          At 0600 Ironhorse stood in the General's empty office, waiting.  At 0710 Ms. Underwood arrived.

          "Colonel Ironhorse?" she said as she stepped into the room.  "Can I help you?"

          "When is General Wilson due in?"

          "O800," she said.  "But he has a meeting with General Trumbull."

          "Will be stop here first?"

          She nodded.  "I'm assuming so."

          "I need to speak with him."

          She opened her appointment book and checked.  "I can pencil you in at eleven."

          Ironhorse nodded and checked his watch.  0715.  He had a enough time to make another stop.

          Giving the woman a brief but grateful smile, he turned on his toe and left, heading down the hall to see if an old friend was in early.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *




          Stopping outside the closed door he pulled his uniform jacket down – Debi called it his Picard tug – then knocked.

          "Yeah?" came the muffled reply.

          Paul pushed the door open and stepped inside.

          A handsome blond man stood at a table, making coffee.  The blue eyes rounded in the darkly tanned face.  "Paul?"

          "How you doing, Surfer-boy?"

          "Jesus-fuckin'-Christ!" the man exploded, abandoning his project and crossing the room.  He wrapped Paul in a tight hug.  "My God, it's good to see you!  Where the hell have you been?"

          "On a project I can't talk about," he told the full colonel who'd been his roommate during their first year at West Point.

          "I see," Colonel Sandy Patterson said with a grin.  "That's what you get for stickin' with SpecOps."

          Paul gave a half-shrug.  "Why don't you finish making that coffee, I'm thirsty," he said.  "And I need a favor."

          "Anything you want, Paul," Sandy replied.  "You know that."

          "Thanks, but you better wait to hear what I'm asking for."

          Paul sat down in one of the hand-tooled leather Spanish-style chairs and waited while the coffee brewed.  Sandy filled two mugs and handed one over.

          "So, what _do_ you need, Paul?"

          "Ever hear of an Air Force group called the Phoenix Mountain Project?"

          Sandy's eyes widened slightly.  "Once or twice.  But you shouldn't have."

          "What can you tell me about them?"

          The blond opened his desk drawer and removed a small black box, setting it in the center of his desk.  He flipped the single silver switch on the top, then leaned over and turned the radio on low.

          "Just in case anyone happens to be listening," he explained.  "The PM Project is a top-top-secret research group the Air Force organized after the Roswell incident."

          "It wasn't a weather balloon?" Paul asked with a sigh.

          Sandy shook his head.  As one of the men intimately tied to Army Intelligence, Sandy Patterson was privy to a variety of military secrets, and this was a big one.

          "I saw the report of the craft that the Air Force found at Spirit Lake," Sandy said.  "I'm reasonably sure that the craft that crashed in New Mexico was the same kind."

          Paul shook his head.  "Blackwood's going to love that."  He took another swallow of coffee, wishing for some of Norton's Morning Blend, then asked.  "And I take it this Phoenix Mountain Project is there to find military applications for alien technology?"

          Sandy nodded.

          "I really don't want to ask, but are we talking about more than just the aliens I'm engaged with?"

          Sandy nodded again.

          Ironhorse sighed.  "I need access to the PMP files."

          "Oooh," Sandy said, leaning back in his chair.  "I don't know about that.  The PMP is outside regular channels.  I don't have the authority to access their files."

          "Who does?"

          "Hell if I know.  The Joint Chiefs, maybe.  The President.  But I wouldn't count on either one.  The PMP's been around a lot longer than most generals, and all our Presidents.  They've become one of those shadow organizations you hear people talking about."

          "Great," Paul muttered.  "Look, I need whatever you can give me," he said.  "I'll take it from there."

          Sandy nodded.  "Okay, it's yours.  Give me a week to see what I can dig up and dust off.  But you'll have to pick it up here."

          "Absolutely," Ironhorse replied, studying the man's face.  "You've got an ace up your sleeve, don't you?"

          "Let's just say that I met someone who has… unusual sources.  I think she might be able to help me."

          "She?" Paul interrogated.

          Sandy blushed.  "Not that kind of 'she.'  I'm still a very happily married man."

          "How is Lian?"

          "Fine," Sandy said, pushing back to grab a photo that sat on a table behind his desk.  "She's getting a little anxious about Paula heading off to college."

          "College?" Paul echoed, disbelievingly.

          Sandy nodded and chuckled.  "The freakin' Air Force Academy.  Can you believe it?"

          "No!" Paul said.  His god-daughter was going to college?  Going into the Air Force?  Where the hell had the years gone?

          "She wants to be a jet jockey, then get into the shuttle program, wants to be part of the International Space Station."  Sandy handed over the photo.

          Paul took it and stared.  Lian was as beautiful as ever, her French/Vietnamese features elegant and calm, and Paula had grown up just as stunning as her mother.  The two boys, William and Everett, were lanky teens, still growing into their bodies.

          "What about the twins?"

          "They'll be seniors next year."

          "What are they planning on, the Naval Academy?"

          "Over my dead body!"

          Paul chuckled.  "Maybe they'll take after the old man and go to the Point."

          "Bill, maybe, but not Ev.  He's got his heart set on a musical career.  You should hear the boy play the violin, it's… scary."

          "He must've inherited the talent from his mother."

          "Tell me about it," Sandy muttered.  He'd taken grief every day of his plebe year at the Point for his complete inability to carry a tune.  Tone deaf, the doctors had said.

          Paul glanced down at his watch.  It was almost 0800.  "You have time for breakfast?"

          Sandy flipped open his appointment book and checked.

          "Where's your secretary?"

          "Out for the week," he said.  "Having a baby."

          "I see."

          "Looks like I have an hour.  You buying?"

          "Sure," Paul said.

          "Great," Sandy said, standing, then snapping his fingers.  "Oh!  There's someone else who might be able to help."  He reached for the black box.  "An FBI agent, who's into, well, spooky cases."

          "Do I want to know?"

          "Probably not, but he's been a useful source – very eclectic and a true believer."

          "In aliens?"

          "In a lot of things."

          "Sounds like someone Blackwood might know."

          "Maybe he does," Sandy said.  "This Blackwood ever mention an Agent Fox Mulder?"

          Ironhorse shook his head.

          "I'll talk to him, too."  Sandy grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.  "So, where are we going?"

          Paul grinned.  "Come on, I'll make it a surprise."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Breakfast passed too quickly for Ironhorse.  He'd always enjoyed spending time with Sandy, but it was time to see Wilson.  He mentioned the time, left money with the check, and led the way back to the car.

          He arrived at Wilson's office at eleven on the dot.  He walked in and Ms. Underwood glanced up.  "He's expecting you."

          "Thank you," Ironhorse said, tugging his jacket down once before stepping up to the door and knocking.

          "Come."

          Paul stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then walked to the large cherrywood desk and stopped, standing at attention.  "Sir."

          "At ease, Paul, have a seat."

          Ironhorse moved to a chair and sat.

          "What can I do for you?"

          "The Phoenix Mountain Project."

          Wilson leaned back and sighed heavily.  "I didn't know about them until the orders came down.  By the time I ran the necessary checks, it was too late.  Alexander was acting outside even Phoenix Mountain channels."

          "Are we going to get access to Alexander's work?"

          "I'm working on it."

          "Would you mind if I tap some of my own sources?"

          Wilson stifled a smile.  "Not at all, Colonel."

          "Thank you, sir."  He cleared his throat and asked, "I'm guessing, of course, but is the PMP still in business?"

          Wilson nodded.

          "Will there be any cooperation?"

          Wilson gave a half-shrug.  "That depends on whether or not we can find the hand on the puppet strings."

          "Sir, how the hell am I supposed to fight these things if I don't have all the tools?"

          Wilson stood and walked to his window.  "I don't have an answer for you, Paul.  I thought we were getting full cooperation, but there are other organizations with their own agendas."

          "If I have to take a squad into Area 51 and kick some Air Force butt, I will, but I'd rather just have the information downloaded to the Cray."

          Wilson fought back a smile.  He had no doubt Ironhorse could do exactly that. And he wouldn't mind seeing those damned fly boys reamed out.

          "Paul, I'll do everything I can."  He turned back, meeting Ironhorse's angry gaze.  "And if that's not enough, well, as far as I and the President are concerned, you've been given complete access to anything – files, depositories, or facilities that have any alien-related items.  You do understand that, Colonel, don't you."

          "Yes, sir," Ironhorse replied, a satisfied twist to his lips.  "It's perfectly clear."

          "I thought so."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          A week later, Sandy thumbed through the file Mulder had given him on the Phoenix Mountain Project.  It was full of the usual cover stories and red-herrings.  Not much use to Paul.  But…

          He opened the thinner but more interesting file he'd received from his friend…

          "Now, this is what I think Paul had in mind," he said softly to himself.

          A knock on the door prompted him to close both files before he said, "Come in."

          Ironhorse stepped inside.  "So, how'd it go?"

          Sandy smiled.  "Some of the regular bait and switch, and some of the real stuff.  I thought I'd give you both.  Maybe your hacker can find something based on the information in the FBI file, but I wouldn't waste too much time on it."

          "And your girlfriend's information?"

          "She's _not_ my girlfriend, but the information's what you were looking for."  He handed the two files to Ironhorse and watched as he skimmed both.

          "I see what you mean.  Tell your friend I owe her a favor."

          "I'd do that, but she'd show up to collect and you'd have to shoot her for breaching your security.  This one's on me."

          Ironhorse looked at Sandy, realizing that he was deadly serious.  "I'll owe her, or you."

          Sandy nodded.  "I think you will.  Just remember, you didn't get this from me."

          "Where did I find it?"

          "I haven't a clue," Sandy replied.  "So, you have time for breakfast?"

          "You buying this time?"

          "Sure, why not."

          "Then I have time," Ironhorse said with a smile.

          "Glad to hear it.  I'll make it a surprise."

          "Maybe _I_ better buy," Paul countered.

          "Too late."


End file.
